You Are The Wilderness
by ABDonovan
Summary: This is a sequel to "I Can't Face The Dark Without You". My name is Shan and this is how I died. This is how I was saved from this world, only to be thrown into another. Things are never as they seem and you can't always get what you want. I may never see Daryl again; here in the confines of Woodbury. (Set in the Winter between Season 2 and 3) Rating for language.
1. Chapter 1: Dead

**A/N: Welcome back! This is the sequel to "I Can't Face The Dark Without You", which if you click my name above...you can find in 'my stories'.**

**This first chapter is pretty short, but it introduces the concepts we're going to deal with for a while. I'm thinking about either mixing some aspects of the comics into the show canon, or I'm going to make up my own winter. Either way, there WILL be a winter.**

**It's a bit choppy, but so was my other story. I hope you guys love it. I'll update again soon. Read and Review!**

* * *

Chapter 1: Dead

"This is Milton Mamet. I've been…I've been alerted to a young woman with a bite…", a young man with glasses spoke into a tape recorder. He was nervous, which wasn't without cause. Merle Dixon stood a few feet from him, his bayonet twitching every now and then in frustration. Milton turned to Merle momentarily, before shifting his attention back to the young girl in front of him.

His hand passed over her mouth, feeling a very faint breath, before the same hand rose to her left eyelid. He lifted the soft flesh, and shined a penlight into it, wincing.

"What? I saw that look…", Merle chimed in, stepping closer to the table. He was breathing hot air against the side of Milton's neck, causing him to shudder.

"Um…sh-sh-she's not responding anymore…H-her pulse is down…I have to report this."

"You ain't reportin' shit…", Merle snapped, "My brother is comin' for her. Cut it off…"

"B-but the infection. It's already…It wouldn't do any good."

"DO IT! CUT IT OFF!", Merle practically screamed. The girl's body began to twitch and writhe against the hard wood of the table, "What the hell's goin' on…"

"She's having a seizure. I mean…what did you expect? It's been hours!"

"Nah. She ain't dyin'! Ya hear me?!", Merle lurched forward, his hands coming over her wrists, holding her down. It was a failed attempt, as her eyes opened, and rolled back in her head, a soft growl sounding from her lips, "You told me you could help her!"

"I said I'd try! It's not like you have time, with these things!", Milton called back, removing his glasses to wipe sweat from his face. Slowly the girl's body began to slow it's gyrations and air expelled from her open mouth. Merle stared, slowly releasing her arms, and ran a hand over her mouth.

"No. Nononono…C'mon…", he sighed, pushing his sleeves up.

"What?", Milton asked, furrowing his eyebrows at the desperation in Merle's movements. The older man began doing CPR on the girl, as if by some miracle, she would wake up, "I have to tell Phillip…"

"Shut up and sit down…", Merle gasped, between rib cracking pumps against the girl's chest.

"But…"

"SHUT THE HELL UP AND SIT DOWN…SHIT!", Merle yelled, turning away from the table to pull his hand gun. Milton jumped, backing against a nearby supply table, before lowering himself into a chair, "What do we do?"

"W-well. I mean…she's dead…"

"Nah. She ain't dead. She's a Dixon…", Merle gasped, before going to work on his CPR again.

* * *

"Daryl? I brought you some food…", Lori whispered into the darkness. Daryl didn't raise his head, but grumbled to draw her to him, "I also brought you a light…"

The candid way she spoke, and the smile that was soon illuminated by the small lantern she carried sent a pain of grief through Daryl's chest. He almost cried out in agony, but settled for furrowing his eyebrows.

"You want some company?", she asked. As she walked across the room, she slowly stepped over the pool of blood with a sad frown, and sat the plates down against the wall beside Daryl. As if planned, she pulled a towel from her back pocket, unfolded it, and laid it across the puddle, covering it up. It was a motherly act of removing a trigger. Daryl wasn't stupid.

"Rick send ya?"

As if surprised that he spoke, Lori stopped her movements, staring toward his eyes with a soft smile.

"Rick's gotta send me? Maybe I just wanted to spend some time with you…bring you some food…play some cards…", she whispered, pulling a deck of cards from her back pocket. She slowly approached him, lowering herself to the floor in front of his bent knees. She moved the lantern closer, lighting up Daryl's exhausted face, and frowned, "Alright. Rick sent me, but I'm worried about you. You should get some rest…"

"I'm restin' right here…", Daryl answered in a raspy voice.

"I mean in a bed, Daryl. You're tired. We all appreciate this place, but it's because of you…"

"Her. It's because of her…", Daryl corrected her. She nodded with a soft smile.

"Of course."

"I can't rest…", Daryl whispered with a shake of the head. He raised both hands to his face, and fought back a new wave of tears, before continuing, "She's out there somewhere…She's…"

"I know, sweetheart…", Lori whispered, her hand coming up to take his hand. She gripped it, running a thumb over his knuckles, "Rick's gonna help you take care of that in the morning. There's no sense in dwelling, is there? Here…eat up…Carl killed the squirrel. You'd be proud of him…"

Daryl had to scoff, his fingers twitching against hers. This is why Rick had sent her. She was exactly what Daryl needed…a mother; someone to convince him that for the night, everything was okay. However, as much as he showed it on the outside, he couldn't convince his body that this was true. Instead, he released a tired sigh.

"Killed it with a shovel…", Lori continued, a small giggle leaving her throat. The giggle quieted, and the smile slowly fell from her face, "We'll get through this. We always do. You're not alone…alright?"

Daryl stared, his stomach rumbling, and slowly he nodded; a tear falling silently onto the leather of his vest.

* * *

Merle sat against the wall of the small office, a hand resting on the top of his head in frustration. Without Shan, there was no way for him to find Daryl. Without Shan, everything was pretty much lost for him. She knew where Daryl had been. With a tiny bit of information, he could track Daryl to wherever he had ended up.

"I-I have to tell Phillip. He'll want to take care of it…", Milton spoke up, his movements timid as he watched Merle for a reaction. What he received, however, was a wave of the hand.

"Don't tell him nothin'. I'll take care of it…I'll tell him."

"Are you sure? He'll be angry…", Milton almost whispered, but Merle laughed, and waved him on.

"Go on…It shouldn't be long."

"Al-alright. Just make sure it's contained…", Milton whispered finally, before standing and sneaking out of the office.

Merle scoffed one more time, and glanced to the table. There wasn't much to be done, at this point, but to wait. She would inevitably turn into one of the things he had been employed to capture for entertainment. Had 'Phillip' learned of this…she would become a pet. Sighing, he stood, and towered over her body. Her eyes were slightly open, completely vacant as they stared at the dirty ceiling above. Her mouth also hung open, blood caked around the edges of her lips. She had been through hell and back, and judging by the bruises on her neck, had cheated death at least once. He smirked, but the smirk turned downward into a sad frown.

"I 'on't usually bother talkin' to the dead…Does no good…", he whispered, staring down at her vacant eyes, "..but me and you never were on good terms, between you fu-…bein' with my baby brother and just…bein' you. We just clashed, but…believe it or not, I'm sorry…"

* * *

Underwater.

I would describe the feeling of that moment as being trapped under clear ice, underwater, but you can't move or speak. You're literally drowning in yourself. You're literally dying, helplessly. My body no longer ached. My head no longer throbbed with every heartbeat.

In fact, aside from the intense need to breathe, I felt vacant. My brain buzzed, but slowly it seemed that the small windows I peered through began to dim. Haze covered them, as I stared at the shapes on the ceiling, through eyes on fire. I struggled against the ten ton weight that seemed to hold my arms down, trying to pull them up to grab Merle, who was now staring down at me.

His expression was terrifying, as he apologized for the animosity between us. Merle Dixon never apologized for anything. He just burned the bridges, and moved on. I furrowed my eyebrows, hoping that they moved; any sign was a good sign to show him I was alive. I was alive, and I was staring straight at him. I was trying to tell him that it was okay. It was the past. He had saved my life…

His own eyebrows furrowed at the small movement in my facial muscles, and I internally screamed for him to help me. Help me? He didn't even know I was still in here. The burning in my lungs grew with every passing moment, and as it did, the haze covered my eyes a little more.

I tried once more to lift my right hand; pulling and tugging it away from the table with everything I had. What I accomplished…was a simple twitch of the finger, then another, tapping my finger lightly against the metal table…

* * *

Merle watched intently, frowning at what he feared was happening in this moment. She was reanimating, turning into something unhuman. It was against the code of ethics in Woodbury, to let one of your own turn, especially family. Her fingers began to twitch, followed by a small breath.

"Don't you get up…", he whispered, as a soft gurgle left her lips.

* * *

As I struggled to move, I suddenly managed to breathe. It was a deep and ragged breath, which came from somewhere deep. After the deep breath, came what was meant to be a scream; a sign that I was alive, and not one of the 'dead'. The scream sounded off as a soft growl.

"Oh god…", I whispered in my own brain, "Merle! MERLE!"

As I screamed in my head, my growls grew a bit louder, and Merle closed his eyes tightly, leaning his elbow on the table to cover his face with his one hand. Was this anguish on the face of Merle Dixon? Remorse, maybe? He didn't cry; simply stayed in that position for a few moments, gathering himself, before a large black pistol appeared from under the table. His eyes were wild, as he touched it to my forehead.

"I have to blink. I have to show him…I'm alive. MERLE! I'm alive!", I screamed internally, squinting my eyes as hard as possible. By some miracle, both eyes suddenly slammed shut, before opening wide…the green radiating just as strong as before. I took a deep breath, gasping for any air I could capture, through what seemed to be a straw.

Merle's eyebrows furrowed as he stared at my eyes. He lowered his head to my chest, and sighed at the absence of a heartbeat. He stayed that way for several seconds, before gasping as I took a deep breath.

"If yer alive, princess…you gotta do better than that…I gotta do somethin'…", he murmured, hugging me close to the side of his face to listen for a heartbeat. I was exhausted at this point. Moving was a days work, in itself, but if I didn't work a little more, I would be definitely dead.

I took a deep breath, and began moving my lips. The large movements my brain willed them to make were dampered…and turned into little twitches. Those twitches slowly turned into soft motions, which eventually sounded the word I wanted to say. Smiling excitedly on the inside, I screamed again.

"Mmmerrrrle…", I groaned, and Merle jumped back, his body slamming into the table behind him. He stared for a few moments, letting his heartbeat calm, before pointing to me with closed eyes.

"Okay…", he whispered, and ran out of the room.

* * *

Merle raced from the room. No matter how unexplainable it was, the girl wasn't dead. She wasn't dead, and the 'doctor' was going to save her…or else. As if timed perfectly, Milton left his apartment, turning toward the lab. He jumped a bit, as he caught sight of Merle, and sighed sadly.

"So, it's done then?"

"She's not dead…", Merle said simply, his conniving smirk rising onto his lips.

"What? Th-that's not possible…", Milton stammered out, pushing past Merle, to enter the lab. As he pushed through the door and scanned the girl over, he sighed, "I know that she was your brother's…"

"Just check her damn pulse…", Merle snapped, crossing his arms over his chest.

"With lips that blue…and...alright…", Milton caved, stepping up to her. Her chest rose, and then fell once. Milton furrowed his brow, watching the action happen once more after a few seconds. He tilted his head to the side in confusion, and placed the earpieces of his stethoscope into his ears. Under her blood stained white shirt, he moved it around, standing as still as possible to find a pulse. There was nothing, "She's just coming back. There's no pulse…it's not…"

He stopped, as a single soft 'thud' rang out through his ears. Then another. Merle watched on, his arms crossed as Milton listened. With every little thud, a bit of pink returned to her skin and lips, and even Milton began to gather hope.

"What? It's beatin' ain't it…", Merle asked with a wide smile. He clapped his hands together and approached the table, picking up her hand. She was cold, and about as dead as a human can get without being in the ground, but her heart was beating, she was kind of breathing, and that was enough hope for Merle. He glanced to Milton's face with a smile, "You do yer magic and she'll be back on 'er feet in no time."

"Now wait a minute…I'm not doctor."

"But yer gonna be. Yer gonna make sure she's fine. You did it with those old people…", Merle reasoned, leaning forward to place a hand on Milton's shoulder. Milton flinched, and sighed heavily.

"Those were cases of old age and cancer. I didn't save any of them…"

"Well here's yer chance to learn. What do you need?", Merle chimed, "I'll go get it for you."

Milton sighed again, rolling his eyes and began pacing, "I'll need a respirator…I have the bandages, I.V. bags and everything already. It's the heavy trauma stuff that I need…even then…"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now…I'm gonna go on a run."

"W-well she can't stay here! She can't be in here when Phillip gets back from hunting…", Milton argued, pointing.

"Well what the hell d'ya want me to do with 'er?"

"I don't know…but she can't stay in his OFFICE, Merle!", Milton almost yelled, exasperated. He pushed past Merle, grabbing a bag, and started tossing things into it.

"I got somewhere for her…", Merle grumbled. He slipped his arms underneath her body, and hoisted her up with a grunt, "C'mon sweetheart. I'll show you yer new house…"

* * *

Lori watched Daryl as he sat still, and inevitably fell asleep without a word. She had managed to get a bit of food down him before he crashed, although, he spent much of the time in between trying not to vomit the meal back up. They had played cards, but he was unable to focus for more than a few seconds, before pain would creep up in his stomach.

His soft groans were pitiful, but he played it off well, and had she not known any better…she wouldn't have noticed. As she watched him sleep in the pale light, she slowly rose from the ground, lifting the lantern as she went. He was suddenly like a child, his spirit killed and stomped on. He was everything that she feared for Carl. Biting her lip, she leaned down, and placed a soft kiss to the tuft of hair that covered his ear.

"It'll be okay…Goodnight sweetheart…", she whispered, and exited the room as silently as possible, leaving Daryl to what she hoped weren't nightmares.

* * *

I groaned loudly in my head as Merle lifted me from the table. I felt as if my legs and arms were going to disconnect from my body, like a porcelain doll, falling apart at the seams. Every footstep reverberated throughout my body, making it hard for me to breath, as my hand clenched the back of Merle's neck tightly.

"Yeah…yer okay, princess…", Merle cooed, not even phased by the fact that I could suddenly hold on for dear life. I still couldn't close my eyes, and they remained fixated on the ceiling above us. My mouth remained open, drying out with every labored breath. I was basically in a coma, fighting harder than I had ever fought for anything, against this virus, "Here we are."

Around a corner, Merle kicked open a dingy wooden door. He pushed inside, and kicked the door shut behind us; the slam killing my senses. He carried me across the small apartment, into what seemed to be the bedroom. It smelled of cigars and booze…and maybe a bit of human sweat. I cringed at the idea of Merle having sex, but I couldn't complain. I was safe here, until I could get back on my feet, and back to Daryl.

He carefully opened the closet; a large walk in room, and walked me to the back corner. Leaning, Merle carefully laid me down, the motion still crushing my bones into dust, it seemed. He pulled a shirt down, and rolled it up, placing it under my head.

"There you are, now…", he whispered, "Close those eyes and get some rest for me. Don't you give up on me…ya hear? You ain't no pussy. Yer strong. Toughest bitch I ever met…for a kid. I gotta go help out with some shit. Don't throw no parties without me…"

He chuckled, before running a hand over my eyelids, to close them. The relief was instant, and overwhelming, and had I not been fighting for my life, it would have lulled me into sleep.

Merle left without another word, off to find vital medical supplies. I lay there, listening to the sounds of children playing, and music blaring outside the windows. What was this place? Why was I alive?

So many questions, and no one to answer them, as I lay there basically…dead.


	2. Chapter 2: I Miss You

**A/N: Soooo here's the scoop. I just got my job, and I already have another job possibly starting tomorrow. So...I've been pretty busy. I decided, however, to get this chapter up as soon as possible for you guys, because the next chapter may not be up until Monday or Tuesday...or somewhere in there.**

**In return, this chapter is a bit shorter. I didn't see the point in dragging it out, when I found the perfect place to close it. So, enjoy. It's lots of feels! I was getting the feels just writing it. If you have something you just hate about it, let me know! I take the bad and the good with a grain of salt, but I appreciate every single review and PM.**

**Enjoy!**

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Chapter 2:

_After the fight with my father, about my relationship with Daryl, things got quiet around my house. Daryl came to work, did his job, drank his tea and snuck kisses under the shade tree. Other than that, though, he was pretty quiet. I didn't ask about the bruises that adorned his body for a week or so after that night. I figured it was none of my business._

_He seemed stiff, but soon was back to himself. What bothered me about them, was the fact that I had caused them, in some way. I figured he had gotten into a heated fight with Merle, and things had escalated. Two Dixons throwing haymakers at each other could get ugly._

_My parents prepared for their yearly vacation to Mississippi, to the old timer's gambling capital, Tunica. It was their anniversary, and if I was into all that stuff (like marriage), I would definitely understand their motives for leaving me on the gigantic farm to fend for myself. My mother stockpiled the kitchen with so much food that it overflowed into the laundry room, food stacked along the folding racks and shelves, and in the deep freeze that was usually reserved for deer meat and whatever wild game my father brought home._

_While I chose not to speak to my father during that time, he sent my mom to do the dirty work. She laid down the ground rules, leaving Daryl out of them until the very end. It was the basics._

_No parties – Like that would be an issue. I had to be one of the most antisocial rich kids in the entire universe._

_No beer – Yeah right. I basically had a package store across the woods from me, and a delivery service in my bed. Booze were in._

_Take care of the horses, and no going into Atlanta – Check._

_Then, came the conversation I had dreaded._

_Daryl._

_She stood from the bed, her cheap heels clicking loudly against the wooden floor as she pranced in her new dress. She looked gorgeous, and for a mom…smokin' hot. Walking back to the bed, she sighed, and sat against the edge of it._

_"I'm going to say this once…", she whispered, glancing down at my hands. I took a deep breath, waiting for her to lay down some sort of martial law against Daryl being anywhere near the house, or that she was giving him the week off…and giving me something to do, "Your father…does not, and will not know about these plans, but I have spoken to Merle. I have cleared the air. Those boys are good men, Merle included. He plans to apologize to you, as soon as he gets a chance."_

_I narrowed my eyes, and nodded, wondering what Merle's agenda had to be, in order for him to apologize so easily. Instead of questioning too much, I just listened on, intently._

_"I've asked Daryl to come and stay…Now hold on…", she held up a hand at the sudden quiet gasp that left my throat, "It's to watch the house. I'm asking you, as an adult, to make the right choices, baby. You know how they can be…how…he can be. You know that once you go off…"_

_"Mom. We're talking about this week. I'm not thinkin' about August.", I murmured, stopping her. She gave a warm smile, even though I could tell that she wanted to press the issue of college as far as she could. With a nod, she placed a hand on my leg and squeezed._

_"I fixed our room for him with fresh sheets. Just…don't be dumb…", she whispered, playing at the fact that she was a young mother. I shuddered at the thought, and nodded, watching her stand from the bed. Her body turned back to me, and she placed a hand on her hip, posing, "By the way, how do I look? Dashing?"_

_"You look beautiful…too beautiful. I'm almost worried about you."_

_"Oh shush. But really? I look good?"_

_"Sexy as hell, ma…", I smiled as she clicked her heels against the floor once, and exited the room._

_"You got all the food you could want! Money's on the fridge! No horses in the city!", she yelled on the way down the stairs, "Shan! I mean it, now…"_

_"I KNOW MA!"_

* * *

_"Damn…what'd yer parents think you'd be doin', runnin' a soup kitchen?", Daryl asked in amazement as he scanned the fridge for something to drink. I popped open the mini fridge beside me with a small laugh, and pulled out a beer, tapping it loudly on the counter. His face reappeared from behind the refrigerator door and showed relief._

_"They knew you'd be here, and Merle's supposedly in the apologetic mood…", I mumbled, opening a beer for myself. It was my first broken rule, but I'd be damned if I was going to let Daryl drink alone…in my house._

_"Apologetic…pfft…", he scoffed, grabbing the beer from the counter, where he quickly slammed the lid against the corner of the marble. I winced, swallowing my mouthful of beer._

_"Hey! My mom will kill me if you fuck up her counters, man!", I yelled. He smirked a bit, held up both hands, and tossed the lid in the trash, "So are you stayin' or what?"_

_"Yer mom said? I mean…ain't yer dad my boss?"_

_"Work comes second to private life and stuff. Besides, my mom's the one who writes your checks for your light bills. So, she's got just as much say.", I reasoned, raising my eyebrows. He seemed to weigh it in his mind, as he paced around the kitchen in his bare feet, another quirk that made me giggle. He absolutely REFUSED to wear his work boots in our house, unless my mom stopped him from removing them at the door. It was polite, and charming, but unnecessary._

_"Yeah. I'll stay. Free food and no Merle for a week? Sounds good."_

_I broke a smile, and closed the distance between us. Now that we were alone, I didn't care whether he wanted me to or not. I wanted contact. I wanted him; those arms around me, and that's exactly what I got. As I stepped forward, placing a hand on each of his cheeks, his strong arms snaked around me, pulling me close in a rough, and almost painful kiss. A quick jerk, and he had lifted me onto the counter, resting his hips between my knees. I smiled, and took his bottom lip in between my teeth._

_"You don't seem so reluctant to stay, now…Mr. Dixon.", I murmured. His nose wrinkled in a snarl that showed his teeth. The look wasn't dangerous, but playful, as he let a silent giggle pass through._

_"Free food…", he mumbled, kissing me hard again._

* * *

I awoke with a jolt, my brain springing to life as if the world was one bad dream. My eyes shot open; air filled my lungs, easier than before, as I lay still in the bottom of a musty closet. I stared into the silent darkness, straight up toward the rack of clothing that had covered my face earlier. I was alone, and cold.

I swallowed deeply, my throat sore and dry. Instead of a successful swallow, I was gagged, coughing and sputtering against the heavy tube that rested along my trachea. I brought both hands up, with some effort, feeling around my face. It was almost covered by thick tubing and tape. As I brought my hands down, they came to rest over a heavy chain, wrapped around my neck, like some sort of animal.

I tugged at the chain, pulling it outward as tears began building in panic. As I pulled, the chain that was apparently holding my hands in place pulled as well. I whimpered, and began scratching at the tape covering my cheeks. As it tore away, the tube came with it. It seemed never ending as I pulled and pulled, gagging and coughing. Once free, I tossed the tube aside, and began feeling along the rest of my body. First my neck, then my chest and torso, and finally my arms. Both arms were still intact, but the bandage that covered my left was hard, and was no longer painful, as if the arm was basically gone.

"Merle!", I gasped, tearing the I.V. needles from my right hand, "MERLE!"

On my deathbed one moment, and fine the next? What was happening? With a bit of stumbling, Merle rolled his way out of bed and stomped over to the closet. The light quickly bellowed in, as I covered my eyes, and squinted toward him.

"Well, well, well. I thought you were gonna sleep all month, princess!", he chimed with a wide smile. I narrowed my eyes in confusion as he made his way to me, and began fiddling with the chains.

"What happened?"

"Well…Until I figure out what to do with ya, yer stayin' here. This is yer little room. Got it?", he asked. I nodded at his dodgy answer, and continued to stare as he removed the chains from around my arms, "You been out three weeks…I'll get the…whatever you want to call him in here to check you out. You got a fever or anything?"

Three weeks? I had been asleep for three weeks? The last thing I remembered was not being able to move, or speak. The last thing I remembered was the feeling of complete helplessness, as I watched my old arch nemesis threaten to blow my brains out. But at least I wasn't a walker.

I narrowed my eyes and shook my head, swallowing, "No fever."

The whisper caused Merle to smile, his pearly white teeth almost cringe worthy as he took a seat in front of me. He reached forward, and tugged at the chain around my neck, tossing it to the side with the discarded medical equipment, "You look like shit…"

"I thought I was dead. How…how did I survive, exactly?"

"We thought you was too. Butler says you prolly either have some sort of…medical anomaly, or you wasn't bit in the first place.", Merle explained. He glanced at my arm, before pointing to it, "I wanted to take it off. Lucky I didn't, eh?"

Nodding, I swallowed again, and wiggled the fingers on my left hand, thankful it was still there. My stomach rumbled, sore and tired. I shifted my gaze to the tubes lying on the ground. Neither of them seemed to be leaking any sort of food. I clenched my stomach and turned back to Merle, "How have you been feeding me?"

"I dunno. He comes in and does his thing. I clean you up before bed…pretty simple really."

"You've been taking care of me?", I asked, a small smirk almost playing at my lips. He raised his chin, eyes narrowed and glancing down at me in his defensive mode. Instead of pressing on, I nodded my head, and looked down at the blood that dripped from the top of my hand, onto the wooden floor, "Thank you."

"Yer welcome, princess…", he murmured, moving his head around to find my eyes. I shifted them to meet his, and returned his soft smile, "I'm gonna go find Butler. 'kay?"

I nodded, but didn't move. As he stood, I crossed my arms across my chest, "I'm a little hungry…"

"I'll grab you a sandwhich…", he mumbled, stepping out of the room.

"And Daryl? Where's Daryl?"

"He didn't show. Never came…", he said sadly, "Yer safe here. Relax…I'll find 'im."

Once again the tears began building behind my eyelids, slowly spilling over as I nodded, and stared down at my lap. Daryl hadn't showed. Something had happened on the farm…and Daryl hadn't showed. For the first time in weeks, I let out a soft sob in the dim light, bringing my hands up to cover my face as I broke down. How could I be happy to be alive…after losing everything I had to live for?

* * *

The first week without Shan was the hardest. Daryl didn't eat. He didn't sleep. He was ill, and for the first time in his life, he literally didn't move from his 'bed'. After the first week, things got easier. Life had to go on, and the group needed him. They needed to eat, and he was the one to take care of the hunting.

He had gone out with Rick, every single night, since she went missing. They had searched for her – or at least what she had become. Even though she couldn't have gone far, it seemed that she wasn't in the woods at all. It seemed she had somehow gotten out. It was the last day of the third week when Rick called off the search.

He sighed, placing his gun into its holster as they both kneeled over a pair of old tracks. It was over. There was no need to go forward, and spin in circles again. He glanced to Daryl, his hand coming to rest on his shoulder for a moment, before dropping to his own side.

"She's not here…"

"But…she…", Daryl began complaining. Rick simply shook his head sadly.

"No, Daryl. She's not. She's somewhere else…She left."

"She's dead! If we don't find 'er…what would you do, man?!", Daryl almost yelled, his explosive anger beginning to flow through him. Rick gritted his own teeth, and stepped closer.

"I'd do exactly what I'm doing! I'm callin' this off…It's my call. I meant what I said that first night. Shit don't work anymore…the way it did before. Shane was right…This isn't a democracy anymore. I gave you the option to stay or to go. You chose to stay. I told you I'd help you find her. She's gone! What do you want me to do? I'm saying my apologies. I'm standing here in front of you, as a friend…telling you…she's either dead and gone, or she left.", Rick snapped back. Daryl was a bit shocked, as he stared into Rick's eyes, between them, and finally bit his lip in surrender.

"You think she's alive?"

"I think she stood up, and she walked out of that room…one way or another.", Rick whispered, "We'll find her…but she's not here."

Daryl sighed, looking around the yard as he slung his crossbow onto his back, and stepped away from Rick.

* * *

"I always thought this was stupid…like in the movies and stuff, but I…I just wanted to say somethin' to ya. Yer not here, and…well…", Daryl whispered, staring at the beaten up wooden cross in front of him. He had positioned it perfectly in front of the old tractor, a pleasant memory that he figured Shan would appreciate, was she alive. He swallowed at the lump in his throat, falling back on his ass, his legs coming up to rest against his chest as he took a deep breath, "If yer alive…Just come home. Just…just be okay. I'm here. I ain't goin' nowhere. We got maps made up. If we have to leave…you'll know where to go."

As he spoke, the lump grew more painful. He reached down, picking a handful of grass to play with as he bit his lip, "When yer dad was against everything…I took a lot of it for granted. I-I wasn't there. I didn't bother with ya…used ya…I don't know what you'd wanna hear, but…I'm…"

He gritted his teeth, frowning as he looked down at his hands and gasped, tears slowly forming, "I'm sorry. Really, I am…I don't know if I can do this…"

Daryl didn't even flinch as a soft hand came to rest on his shoulder, gripping it tightly. With a sniffle, the body came to rest beside his, also pulling her legs up to her chest.

"She's a better listener than me…", Lori joked, placing a hand on his forearm, her thumb rubbing small lines across it. Daryl turned his face downward, trying to hide the fact that he was crying. Instead of buying into it, Lori smiled softly, and ran her hand under his eyes, wiping dirt and sweat along with the tears away, "And you can do this…You're Daryl…Dixon…"

The way she said his name, like some sort of super hero, almost made him smirk. She wiped under his eyes again, whisking the tears away before they had a chance to fall, and rested her cheek on his shoulder.

"Why you takin' care of me, anyway?", Daryl asked, his voice tired and sad.

"I wanna?..and if I don't…I think you'd kill yourself, one way or another. Do you even remember the last time you ate, Daryl?"

Daryl narrowed his eyes, looking away from her to ponder the question. His eyes shifted down to his knees, and he shook his head.

"Two days…", Lori whispered, pushing his bangs to the side softly, "That's why I'm doin' this. Rick sent me…and until we find her, I'm here. Alright?"

Daryl nodded slowly, staring forward at Shan's cross. Lori, too, changed her gaze to the old wood. As they stared, Daryl cleared his throat, sniffled, and decided to talk.

"She always wanted all that stuff…a farm of her own, marriage…kids…", Daryl whispered, "I mean it wasn't like it was gonna happen in a day. She was just a kid…but…I didn't take her seriously. The age and all that…"

Lori nodded, watching his face, as he continued.

"It was so physical. I never once thought she meant with me…", he said sadly. Lori's face contorted into complete pity as she watched, wiping her own eyes, "That kinda thing's never been an option for me and Merle…"

"But you wanted it…", she murmured. Daryl shrugged, shifting his gaze to the ground as he too sniffled.

"I dunno. Kids ain't never been something I enjoyed. Before Sophia…", he broke off, finding that gnawing pain in his chest, again, "I just ain't never felt this terrible…to be honest."

"You miss her. She kept you grounded, whether you want to admit it or not. Don't forget…I knew you before she found you. You were mad…bitter…Now, I like now.", Lori mused, squeezing his arm softly.

"I miss her…Rick thinks she's alive…and she's out there alone…", Daryl admitted, staring at the cross as his eyes spilled over. He didn't have to say another word, as the pain in his chest became overwhelming, and Lori read his facial expressions. It wasn't his thing, all this crying crap, but dammit…

He had lost everything, all in one night. One damn gunshot…

Lori's hand came up through his hair, tangling in the messy mane, as she pulled his head down to meet her shoulder. There they sat for a time, Daryl releasing what felt like a lifetime of guilt, torment, and pain. She didn't judge. She didn't say a word, and for the first time in ages, Daryl Dixon fell to pieces.


	3. Chapter 3: Livy

**A/N: HELLO LOVELIES! Here's Chapter 3 of this riveting tale. It's one of my favorites as far as Daryl goes. I love Daryl in these particular scenarios, and so I decided to throw him into one! It's a bit of a change up from the last chapter, and although it's not much...I think you'll be pleased.**

**Please remember that this is Shan's story. You'll get plenty of your sexy little redneck in there, but they will be apart some. I PROMISE you will not be disappointed in what I have planned, but you have to be patient. For now, enjoy!**

**Read and Review. Reviews get things done!**

* * *

Chapter 3: Livy

September 20, 2008

"So, what do you do when yer parents are gone? Ya throw parties? Keggers?", Daryl asked, his sly tone of voice causing me to snigger. I sat, perched atop the kitchen counter, watching him pig out on basically one of everything in the fridge. Who cared? He was a guest, and I had more than enough money and food for the week. It was time to have some fun.

"I pretty much just…listen to music without headphones…", I sighed, shrugging my shoulders. Daryl stopped chewing and raised an eyebrow. I frowned at him, and cowered back a bit, "What?"

"Yer eighteen…and the worst shit you do involves…headphones?"

"Not everyone has to get wasted to have fun, Dare…", I defended, crossing my legs. He sniggered one more time, and finished stuffing his face with food. Once successfully stuffed, he stood from his place at the table, and washed his plate. It was polite and adorable, and if my mom had been there, she would have been swooning. I bit my lip, a smile plastered to my face as he turned to me, repositioned himself between my knees, and quickly whisked my shirt over my head in one tug, "What exactly are you planning, Mr. Dixon?"

"Breakin' rules…sex…drugs…", he lifted a beer bottle from beside me and tapped it on the counter, before reaching behind his head to remove his shirt, tossing it aside with my own, "Rock and roll…ya know…the fun stuff."

"I like the fun stuff…", I murmured, quickly taking his lip in between my teeth. The motion elicited a growl, and as he tugged my hair, yanking my head backward, I couldn't help but thank God for Tunica…

* * *

November 25, 2010

"Look up at the ceiling for me…", Milton whispered softly. His tone reminded me of a pediatrician, working with a terrified child. Who was I kidding? I was a terrified child. There was at least a decent chance that I was turning into a walker. Daryl was gone. He could have been dead, hurt and left for dead, or worse…

I raised my gaze from the tray of medical tools sitting in front of Milton, to the ceiling, where my eyes were quickly harassed by a blinding light.

"Eyes are responding well, but…I can't decide what this is, here. Come here and look…", he spoke to Merle like an assistant. I kept my eyes trained on the ceiling, where my mind began making out shapes from the random splatters of paint.

Dinosaur. Michael Jackson. A penis.

"Like the biters…", Merle whispered with a sigh.

"What? What's in my eye?!"

"Shh. We're looking at them…", Milton cooed. I slapped his hand away, my glare definite as his penlight fell into my lap.

"What…the hell…is in my eye?"

"Well…You've been bitten. Even if you survived, by some miracle…Even if you were immune, we would have to assume that you would exhibit some signs and traits of the infected…", Milton began explaining. His demeanor was timid as he carefully picked the penlight off of my leg, with two fingers, and placed it into the tray of tools, "You seem to have a bit of a rim around your irises. It's nothing to panic over, yet, as you have no fever…darkening of the gums…anything, really, to suggest that you are any less healthy."

"Is it bad? I mean…does it look bad?"

"Nah. Yer still just as pretty as b'fore…", Merle scoffed, "Makes yer eyes almost purple, though."

"Purple?"

"The blood seems to have mixed…somehow…with the color of your iris. Thus…your irises appear a shade of violet. We'll continue to monitor the condition, and if it spreads, well…", Milton cut in. He lowered his head as he finished, and without another word, turned to write in his journal.

"In other words, yer as clean as a whistle. You ain't got no fever. Yer arm looks about as good as could be expected. You'll keep it if we keep it clean. And there's one more thing...", Merle chimed, stepping in between my knees to look me over. He lifted a hand to my hair, causing me to flinch, and lifted it.

"The virus seems to have changed certain aspects of your body. It's more than likely a coping mechanism, part of the immunity, if such thing exists. Short version…you're now a brunette…", Milton explained, as though it was the most exciting scientific find of the era. I narrowed my eyes at him, grabbing strands of my hair to pull them in front of my face.

"My hair?!"

"Consider it a fair trade! Instead of shambling around on the streets, eating people's faces off…yer eyes and hair changed colors…", Merle teased, and began bandaging my hand. I winced, and looked down at the floor. Yeah, a fair-trade, all right.

* * *

Daryl shot out of bed, a common occurrence nowadays. The room was beginning to grow cold, from the lack of electricity, and though it was colder outside, he was almost dying to get out there. It was dark, and the house was silent, as people slept much better than he ever would.

Stretching, he picked up his crossbow from the floor, and stood, with some effort. He was exhausted. He had almost forgotten, in all the years with a hardened heart, what it felt like to cry; and how exhausting it really was. In some ways, though, he felt better, for it. He felt refreshed, and as though he could move on.

If Rick was convinced that Shan was alive, he had to hold onto the hope, as well. She was alive. There was no way to know where she was…but at least she was alive. He let a small smirk play across his lips, before carefully tiptoeing from the room, and down the stairs. Once at the bottom of the stairs, he couldn't help but look in on the group, huddled together in the large living room. They all sat in their respective families, and although happy that they were safe, the scene made him sad. It was the first time in a long time that he had no one of his own. Merle was gone, assumed dead…

It was time to find them. Both of them.

He opened the door, and silently crept out into the yard; another night, another mission.

* * *

"Your blood is littered with the virus, or at least what I can tell. All of the normal human blood that I have seen looks very similar, which is a good thing. It seems that we are all infected, to some extent, like a dormant sort of germ warfare. It's our extinction event, so to say. The virus is in us, lying in waiting for the population to grow, and grow. Once it grows to its capacity, humans begin to stress. Those stressors…activate…the virus…", Milton explained to me in an excited voice, "What I think has happened to you…is a sort of viral Darwinism."

"Darwinism…", I repeated in a sarcastic tone. As an honor student, Darwinism was nothing new, but me? I was an exception?, "You mean to tell me…that out of all the millions of people who have this shit in them, I'm an exception?"

"No."

"Oh…well, go on, then.", I answered, picking at the itchy tape that now covered the sides of my hand.

"From the look of your blood, and the look of Merle's blood…I simply think that your strain of the virus is…combative; a different species, if you will. It seems to be absorbing, or at least combating the infective species…and in turn, you're basically…immune."

"So, what? Do I have like…super walker powers, now? If I bite you…will you turn?", I asked, both excited and terrified of this news.

"I don't think so. It's not like rabies, where it's passed from one to the next through a bite. It's a more…gentle sort of monster. In fact, you could be the key to everything. You, and God knows how many others, in the world! If we could find just one other…I mean…We could have vaccines for entire cities! We could possibly make this entire…town…immune to the virus."

"And I become a lab rat. You do what? Drain me dry, until everyone is vaccinated?", I asked, before Merle stepped forward.

"No. Butler doesn't even know that this shit is real. It's a theory…Don't get no ideas."

"You don't understand what this means…", Milton defended, but Merle would have no part of it. He grabbed my arm, roughly, causing a loud hiss to pass between my teeth as I stood, trying to combat the roughness.

"She ain't one of yer science experiments. Go find someone else."

"We don't know if there IS…anyone else. What if she's the only one? Huh? Don't you think this is news that Phillip would be interested in?", Milton defended once more. Merle inhaled sharply, shoving me toward the door so hard that I hit my knees and slid across the linoleum.

"When those boys left the other day, where'd you think they went? You think they just moseyed on along, off into the sunset to live out the rest of their days singing campfire songs? You think the Governor just…let 'em leave out of the goodness of his heart?", Merle sneered as he approached Milton, "Nah. He had me follow 'em. I followed those little bastards all the way to Senoia. He sent me after 'em…to bring back their heads…What…do you think…he would do with a lab rat? Huh?"

As Merle whispered the last few words, Milton swallowed, and straightened his glasses, "So what do you propose that we do?"

"Nothin'. She's with me…my business. After she heals up a bit, we're gonna find my baby brother…"

* * *

The trees parted, and Daryl found himself standing at the edge of the pasture; his pasture. The old farm house looked dingy and run down, compared to the Berry plantation, but it was home; at least it used to be. The soft light peeking over the edge of the earth lit the dew, causing the ground to shimmer, like diamonds.

Daryl tightened his grip on the crossbow strap, and pressed forward across the vast field. This was a walk he had made hundreds of times over the three years he had lived here, but this time…it seemed a death march. There was something eerie about the scene, void of horses; void of sound. There was just something…different.

As he reached the steps, he slowly climbed them, looking all around his feet for signs of Shan. A bloody handprint; old and already turned brown was the only thing anywhere around, and a shotgun shell. Reaching down, he picked the shotgun shell up from the rotten wood and examined it.

"Bird shot?", he asked himself. Shan's little twenty-gauge shotgun had been bought and used for duck hunting, but to the best of his knowledge, the gun had been left at the first camp, after the walker raid. It wasn't a new sign, or a beacon of hope. He dropped the shell into the pocket of his vest, and pushed forward through the front door. Something moved, immediately to his left. Out of instinct, he swung around, crossbow pulled up to his face ready to pounce. What sat in the corner, though, took him by surprise, "Hey…you hurt?"

The huddled body remained in its corner, shivering and whimpering. Daryl let out an annoyed sigh through his nose and called a bit louder.

"Hey! I said are you hurt?"

The head began to move from side to side, before a face came into focus. Daryl narrowed his eyes, and slowly lowered his crossbow at the realization that he was attacking a child. The little girl didn't look to be older than ten. She was skinny and dirty, but seemed to have been well taken care of, before she ended up here. She pulled her hair away from her face, and Daryl noticed, in the light, the color. She was a redhead, like Shan. The hair even swirled in all directions, just like Shan.

Daryl lowered himself to the floor, taking a knee, and laying his crossbow onto the creaking wood of his old house. The girl flinched as the composite clashed loudly, despite how gentle he tried to be.

"Yer alright. I ain't gonna hurt ya…", Daryl whispered, slowly reaching a hand out to the child. She whimpered, curling up a bit tighter, "I got some food…back where I came from. There's a little boy there, bout yer age…a mom…"

The little girl peeked out from behind her forearm, and Daryl nodded, reassuring her that she was safe. He didn't expect her to speak, and when she did, he flinched a bit, "W-where's the monster?"

Daryl narrowed his eyes, turning to scan the room, in case the little girl had been running from a walker, "Monster? Like the ones all around?"

"No. He's a man…"

Daryl once again narrowed his eyes, shifting his weight to sit indian style in front of her, on the floor. He scanned the room, one more time, not willing to give his back to this 'monster'. The little girl unraveled herself a bit more, but only to raise her arm, straightening her fingers into a knife shape, "The man with the knife hand…"

"I…I ain't seen no man. It's just us.", Daryl explained, now a bit creeped out by the girl's description. He hadn't seen any sort of disabilities, outside of the dead. She was probably thinking of a walker, "But…I'm sure I could take some dude with one…hand…"

"He killed my daddy. He was comin' for me, but…the biters got after him. I ran…and I ran…and…", the little girl began to sob, as the realization struck Daryl. He quickly shook it from his head, refusing to believe that A) Merle was alive and B) He was actually murdering folks, "…hungry…"

"C'mon…Let's get you some food…", Daryl whispered, reaching out a hand, "I ain't got all day…"

The little girl stared at him for a few seconds, sizing him up, before she took his hand, and stood from the ground. She was wearing a beautiful dress, that was eerily tainted with what Daryl had to assume was her father's blood. He shivered, stood from the ground, and picked up his crossbow. As they walked through the door, and started their trek across the pasture, the little girl took his hand into both of hers, hugging his arm. He had to have been the only human contact she had received in weeks. He also hoped…that she wouldn't become a leech.

"Name's Livy…what's yers?"

"Daryl…"

* * *

"What the hell is going on? What were you talking about 'those boys' and why were you at the farm?", I practically screamed at Merle, as we reached his apartment. He shoved me inside, slammed the door behind him, and pulled the pair of handcuffs from his back pocket. My head began to shake, instantly, and I backed away from him, "No. I'm not goin' back in those things. Merle! I mean it! QUIT!"

"It's for yer own good! You don't understand, now…but…HOLD STILL!", Merle screamed back at me, as he wrenched my arm toward him, slapping one of the steel cuffs over my wrist. He drug me toward the closet, flipped on the light switch and quickly threw the other cuff over the pant rack in the middle of the closet, entrapping me.

"What the hell happened to you, when you left?!"

"I lost my hand! I lost my brother! I had to learn how to survive with the people who found me. If you knew what the hell went on…you'd be grateful. Now…be still, and I'll be back. I gotta do damage control for my screw up…shoulda left yer ass…", Merle snapped. He started to walk away, his face and neck red; his fists clenched tightly.

"They went back for you, you know! All you had to do was sit tight…and Daryl would have saved you. Ever think he might have saved me?", I asked, and Merle stopped his quick walk away, turning to me with a look I had never seen before. I softened my own gaze, pulling at the cuffs.

"I'll be back…", he whispered, and slammed the closet door.

* * *

"You ever kill anyone before?", Livy asked Daryl as they trekked across the overgrown grass. Her short legs worked double time, along side his, and her death grip on his hand was almost comforting as he shook his head.

"No one I didn't have to. What 'bout you? You look pretty tough…"

"One…", she said simply, her green eyes brightened by the rising sun, "I had to kill my ma."

Daryl closed his eyes with a sigh, licked his lips, and swallowed, "Sorry to hear that…She turn?"

Livy nodded, "Me and Pa left out after that…ended up in some town. I don't know why we left, but they were real mad…sent that monster to kill us."

"Were there people? Food?"

Livy shrugged, looking down at the ground as they walked, "People…Didn't eat, though."

Daryl nodded, ending the conversation. As the tree line began creeping up, Daryl grew more and more optimistic that somewhere, SOMEWHERE was a refuge. As soon as the thought hit him, so did the growls, and a loud shriek from Livy. Turning to the mass, Daryl's own eyes grew large at the herd that seemed to be closing in on the farm. A thousand head or more slugged across the wet ground, like a mob, out for blood. He reacted, sweeping Livy off her feet, and took off into the woods.

"I need you to…be…quiet…", he gasped, as he ran with her, "Put yer head down and keep yer mouth shut. I ain't got no problem throwin' some titty baby to the walkers…"

Instead of arguing, or even whining to plea her case, Livy buried her face in his neck, her breathing ragged as he bolted in and out of the dense tree cover. Thank God he knew these woods. Thank God he knew how deep they went, and every dry passage way through them. At least a dozen of the walkers would be stuck in the gumbo mud, trapped for the rest of the winter, but one wrong step, and so would he.

"HEY!", he screamed as the trees parted and he hit the pasture to Shan's farm, "HEY! OUT HERE! WALKERS!"

Rick was the first out of the house, his shirt half buttoned, as he pulled his Python and met Daryl in the middle of the yard. Quickly, he took Livy, sat her on the ground and pushed her toward the house, "Go to the house…warn the others. GO!"

"But…"

"There's no time for that, right now. Just go and find the woman with the long hair…She'll know what to do…", Rick spoke to her, kneeling softly in front of her, with both hands pressing her hair down. His fatherly tone calmed the child, and she turned from him, sprinting up the steps of the house. Rick stood, turning to Daryl, "How many of them?"

"I-I dunno. A few hundred? I found that little girl in my house…There's some guy running around here with…with some sort of knife on his hand. One…hand…", Daryl gasped, and Rick's shoddy looks around the yard stopped, as his head snapped back to stare at Daryl's eyes.

"You don't think it's Merle…"

"I don't know if it is…What if it is? What if he's got Shan? If he's into some new shit…There ain't no tellin' what shape she's in…", Daryl explained, almost forgetting the task at hand. Rick sniffled, nodding, and glanced over his head; the usual sign that he was deep in thought for a quick decision.

"Do you think he'd hurt her?"

"No. I don't.", Daryl spoke definitely, his hands on his hips. Rick nodded.

"Then we'll leave a map. If he's got her…maybe he'll want you, too."

At the decision, Daryl also nodded, pushing past Rick to gather supplies for the road, and maps. Livy sprinted from the house, quickly running to Daryl's side.

"What're we doin'? We're leavin'?", she asked, disappointment all over her face.

"We're just goin' for a ride. Nothin' scary, alright?", he said sweetly, before his eyes scanned over his motorcycle, "You ever rode a motorcycle before?"

Livy shook her head, and Daryl smirked. He slapped her on the shoulder, turning to go into the house. The growls grew louder from across the field, walkers growing closer and closer as they packed. Daryl returned a few minutes later with a helmet under his arm. It had once belonged to Shan, but she had never really used it. He pulled the straps from the inside, and shoved it onto Livy's head, pulling the face shield up to look at her eyes.

"You alright in there?", he asked, pulling the maps and markers from his back pocket. She simply raised a thumb, and followed him as he walked over to the door, and placed the map under the mat. The corner peeked out ever so slightly. Hopefully, Shan would see it. Hopefully…she would understand.

"Let's go!", Glenn yelled from somewhere in the yard. Engines began to roar to life, as the time began to dwindle. It was either leave, or die.

Daryl ran up behind Livy, lifted her onto the back seat of the large motorcycle, and straddled it, himself. As it roared to life, and those tiny arms came to rest around his waist, he began to feel remorse, terror…

Once again, he was leaving this farm. Once again, there was a chance he was leaving Shan behind. As the walkers began to reach and claw for them, Daryl sped off, following Rick and the others, and leaving the dead in the dust.


	4. Chapter 4: Welcome to Woodbury

**A/N: Alright my beautiful people. I am out of my writer's cramp. This particular scene/set of scenes kept me cramped up for WEEKS. I had trouble channeling the Governor, but knew that I had to, in order to make the story make sense. So, it took me weeks and weeks to channel him enough to make this entire chapter a good one.**

**That will NEVER happen again. I have never made you guys go over a month with waiting and for those of you who are still around, thanks for sticking around.**

**Please review and let me know you're still reading. It's disheartening when I come up with something, and then no one says good or bad about it. To those of you who review a ton: I love you. R&R and enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

Chapter 4: Welcome To Woodbury

"Milton tells me we have a guest…", the Governor confronted Merle before he could open his mouth, "Someone you've brought in? Should I call her a guest?"

Merle gritted his teeth, his hands coming to rest on his hips as he cursed the damn nerd for not having the balls to keep his mouth shut. At this rate, Shan would end up stuck in Woodbury. At this rate, he would never find Daryl. He thought fast, and pasted on a smile, raising his eyes to the Governor's.

"She's my guest.", he replied with a nod, "Found her half dead, broken arm…bleedin' to death from the damage the bone did to the insides…She's doin' good now."

"Three weeks ago…", the Governor called, a smirk playing at his lips, "Is there a reason you didn't think you could come to me…account for the food that's been missing?"

"She was under my care…half dead. I didn't think it's somethin' you'd want to be bothered by, with all yer work. The food was my own…any other ain't because of her bein' here, honest."

The Governor nodded, taking a seat behind his desk. He propped his feet up, and snatched a glass of amber liquid from its coaster, taking a quick sip, before clearing his throat, "We welcome visitors. You seem to care a great deal for this girl…I'd love to meet her."

Merle once again gritted his teeth, trying to come up with any explanation in his brain not to allow the Governor to even see Shan's face. Throwing her out would be a lot easier without being recognized. Leaving with her would have been even easier.

"How's seven? I'll have the ladies cook us up some dinner…and we'll meet here, before the fights.", the Governor interrupted Merle's thoughts, causing his head to snap to attention. The look on the Governor's face was definite. The plans were set in stone, whether Merle was ready for them or not. So, he nodded, and the Governor smiled, "Great! Pick her something nice out to wear. I'm sure she's been through a lot. I'll see you tonight."

* * *

The closet door flew open, as Merle burst in. His face was red, and hanging from his arm was a duffel bag, which he quickly discarded onto the floor. He walked over to me, his pace quick, and with a few swift motions of his one hand, unchained me.

"What's going on?", I asked, confused by his sudden urgency. He unzipped the duffel, lying it on the floor wordlessly. What I expected to be guns, or knives…or anything else apocalyptic, turned out to be a dress. I narrowed my eyes, convinced that Merle was shitting me. He turned the duffel upside down, emptying it out. Makeup, shoes, bracelets, watches, and a few other odds and ends fell out onto the wood floor, and my eyes only narrowed more, "What's all this?"

"Remember that damage control I was doin'?", he asked. I nodded, although I didn't understand what he was getting at, "Boss man wants us to come over for dinner. He wants to meet ya."

"Alright. Well…That's something we can handle, right? That's…that's a good thing."

"I don't know how to tell ya how he is. I didn't want ya to meet him, because I wanted to throw you out…You'd be safer out there. You'd find Daryl…", Merle said sadly. He cleared his throat, "We gotta make the best out of this. If you play yer cards right, he'll want you as a recruit. Better than bein' locked up, right?"

I had to nod, but quickly narrowed my eyes, turning my head to the side a bit, "Recruit?"

"I ain't got time to explain it to you now. You've been with Daryl and them…You know how to kill the biters."

"Well…yeah.", I whispered. He nodded, holding his hands out in a way to say 'see?', "So, what's all this?"

"He wants you dressed up or whatever. So, I got you some clothes from down the road. If they don't fit, make them fit…just long enough to impress the Governor."

"The Governor?", I asked, before a scoff left my lips. Merle didn't smirk. He didn't smile. He only stared at me as if I was being disrespectful, "Sorry…"

"Lemme see yer arm.", Merle whispered. I delayed, a bit confused, and suddenly his hand was clasped over my left wrist. I yelped, but that didn't stop him from tearing at the bandage. As quickly as he had grabbed me, was the bandage off. Along with it came a hunk of skin and blood began to ooze from the bite wound that seemed a lot worse…three weeks later.

"Merle! What are you doin'?!", I bellowed, instinctively covering the bite with my hand. The blood began to ooze from between my fingers as he stared, trying to decide his next move. In a couple of seconds, he reached up, grabbing a black tshirt from the rack above us, and folded it; holding it to the wound tightly.

"Hold this…", he murmured, "I'll be right back…"

I hissed, pressing down on the tshirt with all the pressure I could muster from one hand, and watched him sprint from the apartment. What the hell was going on? Was this 'governor' some sort of maniacal freak? Did he want to see the wound?

After what seemed like hours of staring into space, I heard footsteps outside the apartment door, along with muffled shouts and a scuffle. The door flew open, and Milton stumbled in, his hands up and shaking at the sides of his head as Merle followed him in with his gun drawn.

"N-now…now what do you think you're accomplishing, here?", Milton stammered, flinching as Merle flicked his gun toward me, in the closet, "Hel-Hello, Shan…"

"Hi…", I whispered. Milton kneeled in front of me, and I glared over his shoulder at Merle, lowering my eyes to his gun. As if commanded, he pushed the hammer forward and lowered it into the holster at his waist.

"Let's see what we have, here.", Milton whispered to me, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, before taking my wrist into his hand. He removed my hand slowly, along with the tshirt, and smirked, "It's not too bad…Really, I expected worse. The scarring is coming along well. The infection is leaving the site and the smell is practically gone…"

"So do it then.", Merle croaked.

"I don't think it's a good idea to hide this sort of thing from the Gover-"

"Yer the reason he's wantin' to meet her! Did I not tell ya I was kickin' her to the curb?! She's got people…and we ain't the right sort of shit for her to get wrapped up in! But no! She's stuck here, because of you…you little pussy. I oughta…"

"MERLE!", I yelled, halting his words, "Just…shut up. Wait…You wanted to kick me out? After all this?!"

"I told ya before! You just weren't listenin'. Besides…It ain't like that. You don't understand…what yer gettin' into."

"Well, I see food. I see running water. I see a doctor and a leader who apparently wants what's best for his people. Compared to the conditions that Daryl and the others are probably dealing with…I'd say that's a pretty good bet.", I explained, "Besides…we don't even know if Daryl's alive, Merle…"

"I said ain't nothin' gonna happen to ya.", Merle whispered, lowering his head, "So…we gotta make you look healthy. The rest…we can talk about after dinner."

"Well I ain't leavin' without you. Not after this…"

"You won't have to.", he finished, waving the gun at Milton. In response, Milton lowered his messenger bag onto the floor, and began unloading it. He unloaded a pair of scissors, a relatively thick roll of bandage, a bowl, and a bottle of water.

"So, what exactly are we doing?"

"We're breaking your arm.", Milton said in an excited voice, unrolling the bandage into the bowl of water he had just filled. I narrowed my eyes at him, causing him to stop and smile at me reassuringly, "N-not really. It's just…the Governor thinks you came to Woodbury with a broken arm, and some other issues that were relatively minor. If he's going to be with you…we have to be authentic."

"Wonderful…", I whispered, as Milton began wrapping my hand in the wet bandages. My eyes traveled to Merle, who seemed worried. I had never seen this side of him. He looked like a little boy, or a big brother; trying to protect me from someone who wanted to hurt me. However, his stern attitude fit him. He had always been a bit cut throat, and rude, but one thing was always true: He loved his brother.

The process of wrapping my arm in the heavy gauze didn't take as long as I expected. The drying time, however, made me want to murder one of the men. They stood quietly, speaking of the dinner with the Governor casually every now and again. Milton gave his advice to me, and to Merle about what not to say. Merle, however, seemed to tune him out, lost in his own thoughts as the clock on the wall loomed closer and closer to seven. As six-thirty rolled around, Milton lowered himself back down to the ground beside me, lifting my arm, which was now incased in a hard shell.

"Wiggle your fingers for me…", he instructed, laying my hand flat against his palm. I picked up my middle finger, and wiggled it, slowly moving the other fingers with it, "Wonderful. Don't lift anything with this hand. Any pressure might cause the wound to bleed, and that's the last thing we need…"

"So, I'm done?", I asked, glancing at Milton's eyes. He met my gaze, and nodded, but didn't move, "…then…Privacy? I need to get dressed…"

"Oh! Um…Y-yeah. Of course…", he stammered, standing and backing away. Merle stood where he was, turning his back to me. I narrowed my eyes, but figured it was just a Merle thing, picking up the dress from the floor. He had done well, picking out clothing that would fit me well, and would cover me. In that moment, he reminded me of my dad. I smirked, before standing and removing my loose clothing. As it pooled on the floor, Merle shuffled, shifting from foot to foot as he stared at the door.

"You can go out there, if you want…", I whispered.

"Nah. You ain't been on yer feet for more that a day…Stress and all that. Someone needs to stick around."

I nodded to his back, and slipped the little black dress over my head, pulling it down to rest against my thighs. It was long enough that it flowed close to my knees, but wasn't uncomfortable. For that, I was thankful, because it would cover most of the scars and scrapes that still covered my inner thighs. What I couldn't cover, though, were the scars that covered my chest and neck, and parts of my arms; from my time in Atlanta. The familiar cramp shot through my stomach as I remembered back to the trauma, but it was over. It would never happen again…

"I'm decent…", I whispered, swallowing hard afterward. Merle turned to face me, slowly, raising an eyebrow at how I looked. I narrowed my eyes, crossing my arms over the front of my body and shifted from one foot to the other, "What?"

I knew what he was looking at. He was staring at the scars that he had never noticed before. He was staring at everything the Governor would see, and probably judge on my body. But he shook his head, and smirked, "Nothin'. You look…perfect."

"I look disgusting."

"Nah. Just a little scrawny. Let's go get some food in that belly of yers, m'kay?", he almost cooed. My entire common sense wanted to scream at him; ask him what he had done with Merle, and who the hell he was, but I didn't. I simply nodded, slipping my feet into the matching black boots, and linked my arm with his to leave the apartment.

* * *

As we walked down the streets of Woodbury, I received more stares than I had in my entire existence on this earth. Merle seemed to be very respected amongst the people, as they all nodded as he passed, before whispering amongst themselves; words like 'pet' and 'new mouth'. I frowned, looking back at a few of them, who turned their heads quickly, as if they hadn't noticed me.

"Hospitable, eh?", I murmured to Merle.

"Just ignore 'em. All of 'em are just an excuse to keep this place up and runnin'. I could put a bullet in every brain, and I don't think the boss man would care."

I frowned again, looking up at his face. He didn't elaborate, only shrugged a bit, and opened a door for me. As I stepped through it, I noticed a strong smell. It knocked me almost backward, and I covered my nose for a second. Merle's hand instantly slapped my own away from my face, forcing me to smell what seemed like rotten meat, masked in flowery perfume. It was terrible…

"Keep the ideas to yerself, and I'll explain later, alright?", he whispered, before knocking on a door in front of us. The door swung open, as if expecting us, and we were greeted with a new face. He was a middle-aged man, close to Rick's age. He seemed charming enough, his hair slicked to the side professionally. He wore a rifleman's shooting jacket, and a gold watch around his wrist; along with a holster vest, holding two small pistols. I sighed nervously, in the presence of my new leader.

"Good evening.", he smirked, reaching for my hand. I extended it politely, trying not to notice the way his eyes traveled all over my chest and neck, taking in the scars. He brought my hand up to his lips, placing a soft kiss across my knuckles, before releasing me, and opening the door a bit wider for us to enter. The smell grew a bit stronger as we walked through the small apartment, to a table, which sat dressed and covered in food.

I carefully pulled one of the chairs out from under the old wood table, and flattened my dress against the backs of my legs to sit. The men followed suit, The Governor sitting at the head of the table. Merle didn't eat. He didn't drink, until he was sure that I was settled. He locked eyes with me, a million words radiating through his pale blues. The Governor snapped us out of the stare with a clearing of his throat.

"So. How are you feeling?", he asked offhand. I took a drink of water, sitting it down with a shaky hand, before answering.

"I'm feeling alright. It was a rough few weeks…", I murmured, offering a small smile. He nodded, lifting his chin to gaze down at me.

"A broken arm, I heard."

"Yes. It was messy. I lost a lot of blood. If Merle hadn't come along when he did…Well…", I broke off, glancing across to Merle, who was still staring at my face intently.

"Then let's all be thankful he found you. It'd be a shame for anyone to go out, that way…Especially someone who looks as if she's been through enough. If you don't mind my asking…where did you acquire those scars…"

I continued to stare at Merle's eyes for a second, before turning back to the Governor, as my stomach cramped. Once again, I was explaining something to someone I didn't know. I was proving myself to someone, just to stay alive in this world. The only person, other than myself that actually knew the details of Atlanta, was Daryl…

"Um…", I whispered shakily, "During the first week…I um…I ran into some men in Atlanta…"

"They did this to you?", he asked, his voice full of concern. I simply nodded.

"That's not all they managed."

"And you got away. That's what really matters, right?", he asked, once again laced with concern.

"Right. I got away. I…um…", my voice quivered so hard that I feared I was vibrating. Tears began to pool along the bottom eyelids, and I reached down to pick at my food a bit.

"Blood was spilled. How did you…get away?"

I knew that was the next question. I knew he would go there. Merle had called me a recruit, for a reason. The Governor was looking for someone who could handle a gun…

"I um…I killed them all."

"All?", he asked, glancing from me to Merle, who still hadn't taken his eyes from me.

"There were…", I stopped, taking in a deep and shaky breath, "There were three in the house when I escaped."

"And you killed them…Wow. That must have taken a lot of strength. I know how hard it must be to talk about what you went through…I'm so sorry for that.", The Governor comforted, bringing a hand across to rest atop of mine. His thumb drew itself across the soft back of my knuckles, before he retracted the hand and smiled, "For the record, though…I would have done far worse. Sexual assault is amongst my worst offenses a man can commit. You let them off easy."

I narrowed my eyes, lowering them to my lap, before raising them to Merle's, which were now hazy. I couldn't tell if it was tears, or pure anger coursing through his body. His shoulders were stiff. His jaw was clenched, and he didn't move, only stared. I returned my gaze to the Governor, and smiled weakly.

"I've dealt with it, but there's blood on my hands. It'll never be gone…"

"I completely understand, which is now why I'd like to ask you to stay here…in Woodbury.", he chimed, "We have food. We have hot running water, and the grid is almost intact. There are dark parts of the town. Best you avoid those. There's a curfew, in case of any accidents. It's safe. You'll be safe here."

I nodded my head, waiting for the catch.

"I just ask that you pull your weight. Merle will take you along…if you'd like. You can go with him on supply runs, to take care of issues, and whatever else he needs. Other times, you guys will take watch together. You're his responsibility. All I ask is that you report anything strange to me, and if you ever decide to leave…you come to me first…", he explained. I nodded, and glanced back at Merle for clarification. His head seemed a bit clearer, as he nodded, and finally began eating.

"I can do all of the above."

"Great. I was hoping you would choose to stay. It always disappoints me when we lose people…Woodbury can be a great opportunity for those who accept the challenges with the rewards. I would never…ask you to do anything I wouldn't.", he explained like a politician, "Let's eat. Enough with business for now, right?"

"Right.", I whispered with a small smile.

"Welcome to Woodbury, Shan."


	5. Chapter 5: The Kill

**A/N:**

**Another slight hiatus for you guys. I apologize. I won't go into too many details. Just...work...and school...and dove hunting (I'm a bit of a redneck). So, here's chapter five. It's a bit gruesome at times, and stuff. I'm doing a slight timeskip in the next chapter. So, be ready for that. I feel like it's time to move closer to Daryl and Shan reuniting and I have big plans.**

**Some questions to answer...**

**1. Are you going to continue Welcome to Tombstone...?**

**Yes. I plan to continue it as soon as I get this one good and on its own without a bunch of hiatus'. Look for the update in the next week or so. :)**

**2. Does Merle have a thing for Shan?**

**I dunno. You'll have to wait and see. I have BIG plans for all involved with her. So...just...read between the lines :)**

**3. Love triangle?**

**Possibly. Just...wait and see. Nothing is as it seems. Heheheh.**

**Bare with me while things cycle around, and I settle into life, and I'll try to start getting a chapter out once a week or so. Keep reviewing, but please don't spam me. One review is enough. Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 5: The Kill

Unfortunately for me, the rest of my recovery took weeks. Two, to be exact. However, as soon as Merle could safely remove my cast with no second glances from the Governor, he did so. It was nice, to be able to bend my wrist again; to do simple things that involved range of motion. The wound still hadn't healed to its full potential, though. It was still sore and although it didn't smell, the infection was deep in the tissues, keeping it from healing over.

As I stared down at it from my seat atop Milton's worktable, Merle hustled around the tiny room. He gathered supplies, maps, a gun or two, before stopping in front of me.

"Head up…", he almost whispered, tapping his fingers against something hard, like plastic. I slowly lifted my chin from its resting place against my chest, and narrowed my eyes as his hands raised, and something heavy weighed my head down.

"What's that for?"

"I'm bein' forced to take along a third pair of hands. That third pair of hands is a woman…I don't want that blood on my hands. Here…", he explained, pulling my arms above my head. I kept them there, frowning as he slipped something heavy over my head and arms, and began buckling it around my torso.

"A vest?"

"Bulletproof. Keep ya safe as possible…", Merle murmured as he tightened the last buckle. I grabbed his hand as he turned, causing his entire body to stop and tense, before he turned his glare to me.

"What…exactly…are we doing?"

"I ain't got time to explain it right now.", he muttered, but I didn't release his hand. He pulled lightly, moving his thumb roughly across the top of my hand to trigger release that I never gave him. Sighing, he ripped the hand free and placed it on his hip, staring down at me, "We're goin' out to tie some loose ends…so to say. There ain't no other way to keep this place safe…"

"We're hunting…people…", I whispered in realization.

"Now, don't say it like that. They ain't people. Think of them as smart deer…with guns."

Seeing my face, and that I wasn't convinced of the whole mission, he drew himself a little closer to my face.

"This is what you signed up for. These are deserters. They're what you'll be if you run. Only these? These are the ones that will kill you without a second glance. They ain't people…"

I lowered my gaze to the floor, before running my hands over the heavy vest that covered more than my tiny chest, and I nodded. Satisfied, he turned from the table, and began rummaging around.

"I seem to remember a certain girl…being able to shoot a bow better than anyone I had ever seen. Can she still shoot?", he chimed from across the room. I tilted my head to the side, realizing slowly that he was referring to my own talent with the weapon.

"I ain't shot a bow in a year or more.", I whispered in return.

"Well…We're supposed to scout for ammo today. If we're lookin' for it, we ain't got it to waste. You get to take this."

He turned, a small compound bow in his good hand and a smile on his face. He held his bayonet out to the side, gesturing for a reaction from me. I only narrowed my eyes.

"I'm shooting at humans…with that thing? I don't get like, a secondary weapon or anything?"

"You wanna carry somethin' else with it? Sure! Um…", he glanced around the table that stood covered in various weapons; from pocket knives, to katanas, to shotguns and ARs, "Here we go!"

He turned around with a gnarly looking machete in his hand. The blade was straight, and tapered out into a square tip. At the end was a skinning hook, which caused the machete to resemble a hatchet. I smirked and reached for the blade, "That'll do, pig…"

The door opened, causing me to jump a bit, and turn my helmeted head toward it. The man that walked in was someone I hadn't met. Immediately, I sat up a little straighter. My eyebrows turned inward, and my jaw tightened; anything to look tougher than what I really was. I twirled the machete around a bit, and after glancing at the man; I lowered my eyes to it, as if I knew what I was staring at.

"Yo, Dixon…", the man called out, and Merle turned slowly, a revolver in his hand. He raised it, pointing it at the man, before flipping it over his hand and holding it out for the man to grab. Once the gun was in his possession, the man smirked and glanced at me, decked out in my S.W.A.T. gear, "This the one?"

"That's the one.", Merle answered, holding his hand out toward me in introduction, "That's Shan. Shan? This is Martinez."

Martinez looked between us, as my head rose from the halfway embarrassed glare to the floor. He looked me over for a second, his tongue lying over the top of his bottom teeth, before he blinked once and stepped forward, extending a hand.

"Caesar, actually. We tend to run this place like a military camp…names included. Shan. I like that name…short for…"

"You can call me Berry, then. Seeing as I'm a part of this 'military' thing. It doesn't matter…", I sassed, scooting off the counter. I landed on my feet, tucking my wounded arm into my side to keep it from his glances, as he raised his nose toward the ceiling and scoffed.

"Scary Berry…Nice.", he teased. I fought the smirk that tried to play at my mouth, and snatched the bow from Merle's hand on my way to the door.

"Just Berry…"

* * *

Daryl woke up to cold against his legs. For weeks, they had hidden out in these storage units, waiting for a sign of something. Most of all, they just waited for Rick to decide he was done searching. Over those weeks, Rick had began pulling away from the group. He was quiet, and what time he wasn't locked in his own unit, faking sleep, he was out and about. He searched night and day, and usually came back with nothing, but a spare knife or a can of tuna. No one but Daryl truly knew what he was searching for. No one but Daryl understood, and honestly felt as if they should be doing the same damn thing.

Rick was searching for Shan. As soon as they left her farm, he understood that she was alone. She was probably scared, and she was alone. Daryl had, in some way, betrayed her trust. To Rick, it was a gnawing truth that kept him up for days. As far as Daryl could tell, Rick had probably started his fourth day of insomnia, by this point.

Frowning, he kicked his foot forward, a gesture that was a habit by now. Livy clung to him, like a leech. What she wanted from him, he couldn't put his finger on, but he was some sort of security blanket for her. She slept at the foot of his makeshift bed, clinging to his boots, and in the morning, he would kick her awake, and they would start their day.

This morning, however, was different. As his foot shifted forward, it was met with nothing. The warm body that normally pressed against his legs was gone, and in the darkness, he heard no other breathing but his own.

"Hey…", he called out in a tired and gruff voice. Nothing, "Kid…"

After more silence, he bolted up from the bed, felt around for his knife, and quickly shuffled to the door. How she had gotten out of the tiny garage without waking him would bug him for days; weeks. He fumbled in the darkness, finally finding the rope to the door, and threw it upward, suddenly blinding himself with the bright sunlight. As the world slowly came into focus, he looked around at all of the people, moving about, doing the best they could to have their normal life inside the confines of the small and gated complex. A hand came to rest along the top of his, slowly taking hold of the knife that he was holding as defense. He glanced toward his silent attacker, and was met with Lori's exhausted face.

"She's with me…", Lori whispered, attempting to softly pry the knife from Daryl's hand. Daryl wrenched it away from her, slipping it into his holster, "I would have woke you up and said something, but I didn't see any harm in…"

"In what? Scarin' the hell outa me? What was so damn important that ya couldn't wake me up for five minutes?"

"She wanted coffee…", Lori whispered, her arms crossed over her growing stomach.

"Coffee…Right…", he scoffed. He was irritated, sure, but not angry. After what had happened to Sophia, he almost felt responsible for this little girl. She was one of the things keeping him tied to this ragtag group of mouths to feed. It was something for him to work for. It was something to make him belong.

"Rick found a whole stash of stuff up the road. There were more cans than he could bring back in one trip. So, he's gone for another run, but you're welcome to anything he left here.", Lori almost whispered. Daryl didn't bother to look at her. He simply nodded, and stalked away. Soon enough, his leech had returned. Livy stepped up and met his stride with her tiny legs, grabbing the tiny strap she had worn into his shirt by tugging on it.

"What'd I tell ya about runnin' off.", he muttered down at her. Her eyes stayed trained on the concrete in front of her, kicking at rocks as she passed them. After a few seconds, she glanced up at his face.

"I wanted coffee. Every time I tried to get you to wake up…you started mutterin' all sorts of stuff and growlin'. I figured you were havin' some really good dreams or somethin', and I left…I mean…it's not like I'm gonna get eat up out here. We're in a fence."

Daryl listened to her explanation, keeping his frown on his face as he mulled over her reasoning. No. She didn't get to make decisions, thinking she was all grown and big.

"Well…Next time ya wanna go get some coffee, wake me up. I've lost enough people…and ya don't wanna end up like yer dad…", he mumbled, and before he could realize what he had brought up, her tiny foot came crashing down across his toes, before she ran back the direction they had come from. Daryl glanced up at the sky, somehow trying to numb the sudden burst of pain through the sun, and growled, "Shit…"

"Daryl! Hey…", Rick called from behind him. Daryl didn't bother turning quickly. He simply sighed, working off a little more of the pain in his foot, and tightened his grip on his crossbow. He turned slowly, and cleared his throat, "I got something you're gonna want to see…"

Daryl's ears immediately perked up at the words, and a smirk crept across Rick's own face. He held a bag in his left hand, and a rolled up map in his right. Daryl stepped closer, laying his crossbow across the hood of an old truck that the group had basically abandoned inside the unit due to fuel limitations. Rick followed suit, tossing the map onto the hood, and unrolling it.

"You know I've been up and down the roads out there. I went mostly on foot. So, gettin' into the cities would have been dumb…but when I took a car, I ended up here.", he pointed at a spot on the tattered map, circled in red, "It's an old abandoned mill. I didn't find much. There were walkers, of course, but…I found this."

Rick pulled the bag up, something heavy slamming against the hood as he rummaged around and finally pulled his hand free. A pistol lay against his palm, muddy and covered in what looked like dried blood. It was a 9mm from what he could tell, and it looked slightly familiar.

"A gun?"

"Not just any gun. Andrea's gun…", Rick answered quickly. Daryl narrowed his eyes, shifting from one foot to the other.

"How do ya know that for sure?"

"I've had it in my face more than once. It's not that hard to identify. You know what this means?", Rick asked, lowering his head enough to glance up at Daryl from beneath his heavy brow. Daryl didn't say a word, and his facial expression remained, "It's a clue on which way she might have gone. Maybe Shan was with her. Maybe…maybe they stuck together, and they're hunkered down in some house. I think…I think it's time we moved on."

"Because you found a gun? Man we've looked everywhere for Shan. Yer the one who told me I had to let her go. Yer the one who said I should move on. I have…If we're gonna find her, we'll find her, but…a hunch ain't worth leavin' all this."

"All of what? We're locked in this place…fences all around. We run out of food as quick as I can bring it up. Moving…and risks may be what we need to keep goin'. Besides…you can't be that eager to just give up on her. This is a clue…It's not much, but it's something. Why don't you mull it over, while you apologize to that little girl. Why don't you think about how much easier things would be if we found your only family…I'm working…for you. If you don't want it, fine, but I can't just quit…"

"That ain't what I'm…", Daryl started, but Rick pulled something else out of the bag, and slammed it down on the hood in front of him, before turning to walk away.

"You think about it…", Rick called back to Daryl, as Daryl stood and stared at Shan's Python, cleaned and in perfect condition atop the rusted out Chevy hood.

* * *

Hunting Humans.

That's an interesting hobby. I wouldn't exactly call it a hobby, of Merle's. It seemed more like a job; a job he enjoyed. As we wondered throughout the woods, picking up crushed twigs and tiny foot shaped mud puddles, I watched his face. His Dixon jawline remained in a chiseled tight state, as his eyes trained on every movement, from wind blowing limbs, to rabbits running about.

I wanted to speak up. I wanted to ask where the hell we were, and why we had been out here for hours, looking for one guy. With all the walkers in the area, he didn't stand much of a chance, anyways. The weather had turned off cool, and the wind was primarily still. So, their moans and snarls could be heard from miles around, as they herded by the hundreds, aimlessly searching for the next victim of extinction.

As my mind wondered, Martinez dropped, squatting along side me. His hand reached up, grabbing my bad arm, and tearing me to the ground.

"If you ever…"

"Shut the fuck up…", he grunted through gritted teeth. I stopped my words; not even breathing as we listened to the footsteps that seemed to sneak up from behind us. A man, not much taller than Merle crept through the woods. His breathing was heavy, and the shotgun in his hand rattled with every crunchy footstep. Martinez slowly began to raise his assault rifle, apparently planning to ambush the man from a distance, when Merle whistled quietly, and shook his head.

"She can get him…quick and in a hurry. His buddies won't even know what hit him.", Merle whispered. I had to read his lips to understand him, as he tried to stay silent.

"Buddies?", I whispered back, pulling my bow around from my back, "You never said anything about buddies…"

"Just do it. I wanna be back before dinner…"

His words caused a shudder to work its way down my spine. Here I was…Me…the cute little farmer's daughter, killing men that I didn't even know, like they were animals. Only…I had to be done before dinner. I was floored by the sound of it. I was terrified, and suddenly, I wasn't so sure that I could do any of it. I wasn't so sure I wanted to be a part of Woodbury. I wasn't so sure I wanted the safety, in return for another human's life.

"I don't know if I can do this…", I whispered, trying to swallow the bile that crept up into my throat, threatening to spill over. My hands began to shake uncontrollably, and my eyes began to water.

" 'member what I said back there?", Merle asked, placing his bayonet gently against my shoulder. It wasn't a threat, but the feeling didn't calm my nerves, "These ain't humans…not no more. They're as good as walkers, out here tryin' to steal what people got left…like them men you met in Atlanta…"

I frowned, glancing between his eyes, "These men are…like that? I thought they were just men…"

"Oh no…These are bad men. Don't have no pity on scum like that. Alright? Think back…way back…You got blood on yer hands already. A little more ain't gonna hurt nothin' to keep you alive.", Merle reasoned. He brought his hand up to cradle my jaw line, and then gave it a soft pat, before pointing in the direction the man had stalked.

I took a shaky deep breath, turning slowly toward the treeline, where the man naively sneaked along. Surely he had heard some of our noise. He was much more aware now, than before, and seemed to walk slower, and more alert. I raised my bow, much like I had done hundreds of times as a teenager. I quietly released an arrow from the quiver, and laid it inside its rest, knocking it against the string.

With a deep breath, I pulled the string back, judging the range, and set my sights directly on his skull. With my shaky hands, the aim was difficult, and when I released the string, I 'hit' my target with a sickening noise, and a scream of agony, as the arrow pierced through his upper arm, and out his chest, completely missing my aim.

"HELP! OH MY GOD! OH JESUS! FUCK! HELP!", the man screamed throughout the woods. The sound carried, echoing about as Merle cursed under his breath. In a matter of seconds, his large hand was wrapped around my upper arm tightly, and he was dragging me to my feet with a snarl on his face.

"What the hell kind of shot was that?! Now I gotta clean up yer mess again…That's all yer good for…cleanin' up messes. Go shoot his ass again!", Merle snapped, shoving me toward the man. I stumbled, grabbing a tree to keep myself upright under all the body armor I was forced to wear, and turned to him. He and Martinez were already walking away.

"Where are you goin'?", I called to them. I didn't need an answer, though, as both of them raised their guns, and began calling to someone in the distance. From what I could tell, they were negotiating, and asking that the people drop their weapons. I placed my fist over my lips, as the man kept screaming. I had to end it. He would ultimately die anyways, and he was bad. He was evil. As I turned and crept toward his screams, I found it harder and harder to breathe. Killing a deer in one shot is one thing. Wounding a deer, and cutting its throat to end its misery…is a completely different thing.

"Oh my god. Please…Please help me. I'm begging you…", the man began to plea with me as I drew closer. He glanced at my bow, and instantly began shaking his head, his eyes full of tears and his voice pitiful, "Please…I have children. I can s-show you a picture. We didn't mean no harm…Don't kill me…Please…"

"Shut up…", I whispered solemnly, glaring down at him. I leaned my bow against the closest tree and kept the persona, as he immediately shut his mouth, "I wish I didn't have to hur-"

BANG!

Instantly, a red hot pain ripped through my stomach, and my body worked its own physics, slamming against the ground. No matter how hard I tried to breathe, nothing came. No matter how hard I tried to forget the gripping pain, it stayed. As I lay there, contemplating death, the drama began to subside. My breathing slowly began to return, and I walked my hands up my sides, to the front of my heavy body armor, searching for the bullet that I knew had to be there. Sure enough, the cold metal brushed across my fingertips, confirming that I had been shot, but I was alive.

"Dirty whore…Doing the biddings of a man possessed. All of you crazy fucks can rot in hell.", the man spat at me as the ringing in my ears also began to subside, and I slowly sat up from the dirt and leaves. I don't know what came over me. I don't know if it was anger, or sadness…or just the cracked rib beneath all the clothing that caused the fit, but a fit he received.

I stood, pulling my machete from its holster, and approached his leaning frame. His demeanor changed completely from cocky, and convinced, to a scared little boy, again. He begged, and he pleaded, but my ears were shut off. The blade almost swung itself, hacking across his face. A string of blood flowed from its tip, onto the nearby trees and a bit of it into my hair. He sobbed, falling to the ground, curling up as best he could, before I snapped.

I brought the blade down against the side of his neck over…and over…and over. Eventually I lost count. Eventually I lost aim. Long after the screaming and shuddering stopped, long after his body began to cool with the chill of the air, did I hack, until his face held no resemblance to a man, and all that remained was a bloody mess of a headless body. The blood dripped from my nose, my chin, and my hair, as if I had just gotten out of a crimson shower. I blew some of it away from my mouth, glancing down at my work.

A whistle sounded from behind me, and I turned quickly, the machete ready to swing. I was greeted by Merle's raised hands, which began a slow clap as I lowered my blade to the ground and sat back against my ass, letting the scene sink in.

"Woo-wee…", Merle chimed, walking over to the corpse in front of me. He kicked a bit of the brain matter with the toe of his boot, before looking me over, "Issues…Probably picked the wrong secondary to give ya, there…"

His joke failed to receive a laugh, as I stared ahead through the trees, trying to forget that I had warm blood streaming down my face. Martinez didn't come near me. He lifted my bow from the ground, swinging it over his shoulder and simply leaned his shoulder against his nearest tree, waiting for us.

"C'mon. Let's get back to Woodbury. I heard the Governor's plannin' a barbeque. You like deer, right?", Merle whispered, squatting beside me. He reached forward with his hand, and picked something (that I assumed was brains) off of my face, and then pushed a strand of bloody hair behind my ear, "I'll even…let you use my shower…Hey. Don't you do this crap to me, gettin' all soft and shit. It gets easier."

"Which part? The killin' or the lyin'?", I whispered, more rhetorical than anything.

"Both. Now, c'mon. What's that?", he stopped and brushed his fingers over the bullet in my vest.

"Son of a bitch shot me…I thought I was dyin'…"

"Nah. We'll take care of that, too. Some frozen peas and a good meal. You'll forget all about no cracked ribs…", he encouraged, grabbing my arm. I allowed him to lift me from the ground, my machete in tow, "Governor ain't gonna like you messin' up all his kills. New rule…leave the head…"

I frowned, but didn't comment as we began our long walk back to Woodbury. If my hands weren't dirty before, they definitely were now. As bad as I hated to admit it, I was glad that Daryl was gone. I was glad he couldn't see the things I would do for safety.

As bad as I hated to admit it, I was glad I would never have to explain myself to him again. That was the last I would think of him for a while, as my life shifted into something I would have never dreamed.

For seven months…


	6. I'm Back (Statement - New Ch 1015)

I know this is false hope for a lot of you, but I am posting this to let you know I'm still here. I'm still writing this story, and now that the show has started up and I've seen so much of Daryl's development, I'm eager to continue. Drop me a line in the review section and let me know you're still interested and as excited for new chapters as I am and I will get you guys a new chapter on Tuesday (I'm off work and school).

Thanks for being loyal and sticking with me.

AnnaBeth


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